


Miracles

by Lindenharp



Category: Forever Knight
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Gift Giving, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28208262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindenharp/pseuds/Lindenharp
Summary: Natalie wants to give Nick a gift for a special occasion.
Relationships: Nicholas Knight & Natalie Lambert
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	Miracles

**Author's Note:**

> Another blast from the past. This was posted to FKFIC-L sometime in the mid-90s. I have not edited it, except for formatting. I should have posted it earlier this month, but didn't think about it in time.

The gift was easy to find; the card was not. She searched through what seemed like half of the stores in Toronto, and everywhere her query was met with amusement or blank stares. Finally, she found it in the back of a small, dusty shop.

"We don't get much call for these anymore," the proprietor said apologetically. "A pity, really—it's a beautiful custom, but nowadays, only some of the elderly still observe it."

"Well, my friend is... quite old," Natalie replied solemnly. She suppressed a sudden desire to giggle, wondering how the woman would react if she knew just _how_ old Nat's friend really was.

Nodding, the woman rummaged through a file drawer. "Here it is!" She showed the card to Natalie. "Is this the right one?"

Natalie peered closely at it. "Yes, that's it. Perfect! Thank you very much." She paid the woman, tucked the card into her purse to protect it from the light snow that was falling from a pearl-grey sky, and hurried back to work.

* * *

Nick looked, bewildered, at the brightly-wrapped package that Natalie had thrust into his hands. "Uhhhh... Nat? It's a little early for Christmas, and my birthday isn't until next month, remember?"

Natalie shot him a wry look. The Toronto P.D.—and the rest of the mortal world—believed that January 1st was Nick's birthday. She alone knew that the date was a false one, just another part of the fictitious persona that was "Nicholas Knight," a 36-year-old human born in Chicago. Though she had never asked him, Natalie suspected that Nick did not even remember the real date of his birth. "Why don't you read the card?"

Nick lifted the envelope flap and pulled the card free. He stared.`Wishing You Joy on Your Name Day' it said, in gracefully calligraphed letters. He opened the card. Inside, a white-bearded man in a bishop's miter gazed at him serenely from a small rectangle of glossy cardboard. In a low, shaky voice, Nick read the text beneath the picture. "Nicholas of Myra. Bishop and Saint. Feast Day, December 6th. Patron saint of children, of sailors, and of... captives. His miracles include...'" He fell silent.

Natalie fiddled with the buckle of her wristwatch. This whole venture had been something of a gamble. Several months ago, she had begun reading books on the Middle Ages, in order to have a better understanding of the culture that had first shaped Nick's personality. One of the books had reminded her of a long-forgotten fact: that medieval Christians had celebrated, not the day of their birth, but the feast day of the saint for whom they were named. "I got the right one, didn't I?" she asked anxiously. There was more than one Nicholas on the calendar of saints, but none more popular than the 4th century bishop whose compassion and generosity had inspired the modern legends of Santa Claus.

"Yeah... you got the right one," Nick said quietly. He shook his head as if to clear it. "Nat... I don't know what to say. It's been almost eight hundred years since I last got a name day gift. Thank you..."

"Maybe you should open it," she suggested.

The package was cylindrical, tapering to a point. Nick ripped open the top part of the wrapping and peered inside. "Dirt?" he said incredulously, "You gave me dirt?"

Natalie glanced heavenward. "Take a closer look."

When the rest of the paper had been carefully removed, Nick saw that he was holding a blue-and-white ceramic flowerpot. Half a dozen bulb tips protruded from the soil that filled the pot. A small plastic sign promised that they were (or would become) crocuses. "Nat, thanks. It was very kind of you..."

A long silence followed. Natalie took the card from Nick's hand and read the rest of the text, "His miracles include the restoration of three murdered boys whose bodies had been chopped up and pickled in salt. He is also credited with saving a poor man's daughters from a life of prostitution by giving them three bags of gold.'" She smiled at him. "Always trying to help other people... reminds me of someone else I know."

Nick grimaced slightly. "You shouldn't compare me to a saint, Nat. I'm not-- you don't know..." He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Since when does a scientist believe in miracles, anyway?"

Natalie tapped one slender finger on the rim of the flowerpot. "Scientists know more about miracles than you think," she said softly. "But sometimes you have to be patient and wait for them to happen in their own time." Then, in her best don't-argue-with-the-doctor voice, she ordered, "Put this where it can get some light, okay? Living things need light, Nick."

"Okay," Nick agreed. "I've got a desk lamp at home that it can go under." He gave her a quick hug. "Thanks again, Nat."

* * *

When the crocuses bloomed, two weeks later, they were a brilliant yellow, blazing on his desktop like six tiny but perfect suns.

\-- THE END --


End file.
